Murder Song
by Lif61
Summary: Dean feels as though he'll say yes to Michael, so he only knows one way to get out of it, and he asks Castiel to help him.


**A/N: ****So this is a songfic, using the song "Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) [Acoustic]" by AURORA. I personally think the song is better than the fic turned out, and I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this. But I don't think I can tweak it anymore. Go crazy. And do give the song a listen to. It's so beautiful.**

**WARNING: This fic contains a major character death, and assisted suicide.**

* * *

Rain poured down steadily from the darkened sky, soaking through Dean's army green jacket, plastering his hair to his forehead, and dripping from his eyelashes. His heavy, weighted breaths came out in cold puffs, and water dripped from his hands that he rubbed anxiously together. He stepped forward, puddles splashing underfoot, as he walked to the corner of the alley to meet Castiel. Scummy ground and the stink of trash marked this setting, along with rundown, darkened buildings.

It was perfect for what he needed.

Dean pressed his hip, felt the holster and the gun there.

Castiel was waiting for him, a car passing, the headlights causing the droplets in his dark hair to sparkle just for a moment.

"I came," Castiel said. "My phone is dead, but I heard your prayer. Dean, you need to get better at it."

"I... " There wouldn't be a need to, but still he said, "I know."

"What is it you need? Something urgent, yes?"

Castiel came forward, getting in his personal space. Dean didn't have it in his heart to reprimand him this time. He was scared, tired. Just so tired. Done. But more terrified than he had ever remembered being.

There was a letter waiting for Sam at their dad's storage unit.

When the time came…

"Any luck on finding God?" he asked, not yet ready.

Castiel shook his head, and then held out Dean's amulet.

"Here, this belongs to you."

Dean pinched his lips together, bit down on his bottom one, felt a sob coming up. There was a pain at the back of his nose, a pinch, that feeling he got when he had to cry. He frowned, and worked his mouth open and close a bit until he was sure he could talk without crying, then said, "Nah, you keep it."

Castiel reached out his hand, the one with the amulet, and laid it against him, the little face pressing against his shirt.

"Dean—"

Tears now welled up, and he broke out, "I asked ya here to kill me, Cas."

The angel's eyes grew wide, wet, and the depths seemed endless, so wise, but childlike at the same time.

"But Sam, he can't— What about— I— Dean, no."

"Michael's gonna get me if I don't do this. If I say yes, we all lose. The world burns. We can't risk that."

Castiel's fist started clenching in his shirt, his jacket, and then he shoved him back, but let the amulet fall, and Dean was left to catch it with hapless hands.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

"_No._"

Dean placed it in his pocket, as reverent as ever, but then came forward, taking Cas' arms, holding him.

"Cas, you have to."

"No."

"Cas, please."

Suddenly he was grabbed and shoved across the alley till his back was against the wall. The angel was right in his face, breath blowing over him.

"If you're so eager to die, why don't you do it yourself?!"

Dean went limp in his grip, bottom lip trembling.

"I can't. I-I-I can't. Not without you. I need you, man. N-Not Sam. _You_."

Cas lowered his hands, no longer ready to hold him against his will, no longer ready to attack.

"What if I don't?" he asked, voice quiet, raw.

"Michael gets me."

"No, he won't," Castiel told him, shaking his head fiercely. "He won't, he won't. I won't let him, we're going to figure something out. He won't get you, I promise—"

Dean grabbed the back of Castiel's head and pressed his lips to his.

Castiel fell into him, but kissed back with a power that Dean had never felt from a lover before. Maybe it wasn't just love. Maybe it was hatred, hatred for asking him to do this. It was fear, it was grief, it was everything, and perhaps it was nothing because this was all about to end. As they kissed, Dean cried, wishing he could have more time, more time with Sam, more time on the planet, maybe even one last night, to give Cas everything, but then he would turn back. He pulled his pistol from its holster on his hip.

When the angel, his best friend, pulled back, he slipped it into his strong, reassuring hands.

"Why not my Grace?" he asked.

"I need it to be human, man," he exclaimed. "I don't need an angel to get me. I don't need it to be an angel."

"Dean, I can't do this. You're asking too much. I raised you. I can't undo that."

"What if we lose, Cas? What if we lose because you don't do this?"

"Then I want to lose."

Dean caressed his wet hair, the locks feeling soft even in the dripping cold. He smiled at him. "No, you don't. You love humanity too much. That's why you turned from the angels."

He brought his lips to his again, being soft this time, gentle.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay. This is the right thing to do."

Castiel flicked off the safety, a sob shaking his shoulders.

"If it's not I will bring you back."

"It's okay."

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

The barrel was brought to his forehead, metal like ice in the night.

_He holds the gun against my head_

Eyes closed.

_I close my eyes, and bang, I am dead_

Dean didn't even have time to see the muzzle flash.

_I know he knows that he's killing me for mercy_

His last breath escaped into the air, mercy saving his body and soul. Blood splattered against worn brick.

_And here I go, oh, oh, oh_

Dean was no longer in his body, but was there to watch himself fall.

_And here I go, oh, oh, oh_

Was there to watch Castiel drop the gun, and catch him, lower himself to the tarmac, looking up to the sky, as if God had some answer. Dean looked up too.

No one looked down.

The angel had his arms wrapped tight around him, pulled him closer, was murmuring to him, rocking him, and over and over again, Dean heard that he was sorry.

_And he holds my body in his arms_

_He didn't mean to do no harm_

_And he holds me tight_

"Dean!" Cas cried, shaking him. "Dean. Dean, no, no, no, no, no."

He was leaning over, kissing his lips now, another hand over his chest, pressing hard against it.

"Dean. Dean, please. I…"

Another kiss, and another. Another.

"Dean! _Dean!_"

A longer kiss this time, and then he was holding his lifeless hand. Dean knelt down, reached out, though his hand passed through, and he felt as though he had to cry, but no tears came.

"Cas."

His angel's tears fell through his spirit that remained.

Michael tugged at his soul, and Dean grit his teeth.

_Oh, he did it all to spare me from the awful things in life that comes_

_And he cries, and cries_

_I know he knows that he's killing me for mercy_

"I'm sorry, Cas. I have to go to Heaven. I have to go."

_And here I go_

He kissed him, trying, _trying_, to touch him, to reach him. His angel reached out a hand, held on. They almost touched.

_And here I go_

Dean began to depart into the light, no Reaper to guide him this time, knowing the way.

And there Castiel remained, admitting his guilt, crying out his apologies, holding him as though he'd never let go.

_He holds my body in his arms_

_He didn't mean to do no harm_

_And he holds me tight_

Dean Winchester was saved.

_Oh, he did it all to spare me from the awful things in life that comes_

_And he cries, and cries_

Castiel drew farther away.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

Light closed in around him.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

Dean found out that the dead could indeed cry.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

The world was gone, Michael, the Apocalypse, and so...

_The gun is gone_

_And so am I_

_And here I go_


End file.
